What Should Have Happened
by Uhlyssa
Summary: What should have happened when Haymitch and Katniss return to District 12. Haymitch/Katniss pairing.
1. Chapter 1

**First fan fic! Tell me what you think. Am I portraying Haymitch correctly? He's my absolute favorite and I'm so afraid I'll ruin the essence of his character.**

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE BELOW MENTIONED CONTENT. ALL PROPS TO SUZANNE COLLINS!**

**Katniss**

"Haymitch?" I whisper, gently shaking his leg. Of course he's passed out, drunk, as always. Still, it's a little early to be passed out already. Barely 9 o'clock. I don't even know why I'm here really, why I even bothered to seek out his company. All I do know is now that I'm here I don't want to leave. I don't want to be alone again.

"Haymitch!" I say again, louder this time, giving his leg a violent shake.

"Hnnnugg!" he mumbles still half asleep. As he tries, unsuccessfully, to rise, his legs tangling with mine.

I fall helplessly into his lap, landing in a very uncomfortable position, hand resting on his crotch, chest pressed against his jaw, now painfully aware of the fact that he's wearing nothing but a pair of very tattered boxers. Shocked and horrified, I snatch my hand away and look down at him, an apology already springing to my lips. My apology stops dead on my tongue as I see the look on his face before he hides it behind his ever cynical, sarcastic smirk; shock, yes, but something else I can't quite place.

"Did you come all the way over here just too sexually harass me, sweetheart? Or is there something else I can help you with?" he says. "You know, just because I'm a drunk doesn't mean I'm easy."

"You wish!" I retort, anger flaring. I shove off of him a little harder than necessary and he winces. Good. Serves him right!

"You know I do, sweetheart." He winks at me, but I see that flash in his eye again; the same one as before. What is that? I can't tell because his I-am-superior-to-all smirk is on his face again and it gets me so mad that I storm out, forgetting all about the reason I went searching for him in the first place.

**Haymitch**

"Haymitch!" I hear Katniss call. Dammit! Can't a man pass out drunk in any peace around here?

"What!" I say, or try to say, as I attempt to get up. No such luck, my legs tangle with hers and she's falling on top of me. Ugh, I can't handle this right- Whoa there! She lands on me with her hand on my crotch and her breasts pressed against my face, grazing my mouth. Oh God. My breath hitches and I struggle to keep my reaction under control before she turns to me, face full of shock and horror.

"Did you come all the way over here just too sexually harass me, sweetheart? Or is there something else I can help you with?" I drawl in my most sarcastic tone, trying to keep the strain from my voice. "You know, just because I'm a drunk doesn't mean I'm easy."

"You wish!" she snaps back, anger flaring in those grey eyes as she shoves off of me. Hard. Good. It's easier to cool the burning feeling in me when she's so angry. Christ! The burning feeling? What the hell is wrong with me? Must be the booze. Yeah, the booze.

"You know I do, sweetheart." I reply coolly with a rather seductive wink, hoping it would piss her off, but not entirely not meaning it. I take it I succeed in pissing her off when she stalks out of my house.


	2. Chapter 2

**So this is a revised chapter. Much thanks to Howlynn for her tips and questions! Hopefully I cleared a few things up and didn't completely disrupt the flow of the story! Also did an editing job when I noticed exactly how many mistakes were in there! Hope you like it!**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE HUNGER GAMES AND ANY FAMILIAR CHARACTERS BELONG TO SUZANNE COLLINS.**

**Haymitch**

Jesus. What the hell is going on here? Pull it together, Mitch! She's barely 19! Barley 19… Aw, dammit! Today's her birthday! How could I forget that? Well, very easily all things considered. The copious amounts of alcohol I consume on a daily basis for starters. Still, it's Katniss, and as much as I despise her, I can't help having a soft spot for her at the same time. After all, we are sort of a family. A broken, drunken, pathetic mess of a family, but the only one we've got. Her mother abandoned her after the revolution, so did Gale. And Peeta, well he came back, but he never really was the same.

About eight months after he came back to District 12, I found Peeta hanging in the woods, a paper with a picture of Katniss painted on it and a few verses of The Hanging Tree written underneath lay on the floor under his feet. He had left me a note saying he was going in to the north woods for some fresh ingredients and to meet him there if I felt like hanging out. Kid always had a way with words right? The fact that he had bothered to leave me a note was strange enough that I decided to go find him, thinking that he had some kind of big news he wanted to surprise me with. Wasn't exactly the kind of surprise I was expecting. Back at his house were two letters addressed to Katniss and I and a basket full of cheese bread, Katniss' favorite. Telling her about Peeta was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do. Harder than the games, mentoring kids I knew would be slaughtered, harder than alcohol withdrawl. Harder even than thinking that Katniss was dead, because I knew this would break her, I knew it would deal damage that would be irrevocable and I was going to be the one to have to di it. I thought I lost her that day. She went crazy, blamed me for what happened to Peeta, said she hated me and never wanted to see me again. I couldn't argue with her, I blamed me too, but it angered me that she didn't understand that she wasn't the only one who lost someone. I loved the kid too. I loved the kid and now he was gone, and she was throwing me away too. I didn't see her for months. But after a few months I forced myself to read Peeta's letter. I don't know why I put it off for so long. I guess it felt like the final goodbye, but what I read made me feel so ashamed, the way only the boy could make me feel. Damn his good heartedness. It was impossible to hate him, and of course, I hated him for that.

In his letter he asked that I care for Katniss. He explained why he couldn't anymore. That he saw how hard it was on her when he slipped back into the Mutt the Capitol had turned him into. He hated himself for being unable to control it, hated that he almost killed her each time. The last time was the worst. She was officially dead for three minutes before I revived her. Scared the shit out of me. He said that he knew how much I cared for her even if I didn't know it yet. That part made me laugh. I mean sure I cared about the kid a little, but let's not get ahead of ourselves here. He told me how thankful he was to me for her. Thankful that I chose her and he owed me more than he could give for that fact alone. He asked me to continue to choose her, for him, for the rest of my life. That part confused me. I didn't understand what he meant, the games were over, Katniss was safe. Well, safe from everyone but herself. I guess he just wanted me to be sure. He ended saying that he loved me, and not to let that go to my head. I still wasn't as pretty as Katniss. Ha! The little punk. Who does he think he is? Going and dying on us, but still making jokes.

So I did what he asked, partly out of obligation and partly out of guilt from my part in his capture. I should have tried harder to save him. The morning after I read the letter I went over to Katniss'. As I crossed the overgrown lawns in the Victor's Village I was suddenly very afraid of what I would find. It had been four months since I'd seen her. Greasy Sae had stopped coming around when Peeta returned and hadn't gone back after his death. Even if she had been there I was too angry and bitter to have asked after Katniss anyway. Anything could have happened to her between that time. I hesitated as I reached her door, not sure if I wanted to find another one of my Victor's dead, but I knew that I'd never be able to wash the image of her dead face from my mind and Peeta's haunting accusations from my dreams if I didn't check. So I didn't knock, I just walked in holding my breath, afraid of what would be around the corner. I had found her sitting at the table, blanket wrapped around her too thin shoulders, a half-eaten plate of God-knows-what in front of her, and Peeta's letter in her hand. I stood there while she read, somehow very sure that that was the first time she'd opened it and not wanting to interrupt.

For a long time after she finished reading the letter she just sat there, facing the sun, her eyes closed, tears flowing, and a smile ghosting on the edges of her lips. She looked more peaceful, more beautiful than I'd ever seen her. Finally she turned around and saw me standing there, watching her. She started a bit when she saw me, her eyes flashing and I saw her hand reach under the table, no doubt to grab a knife concealed in the folds of her blanket, before she relaxed and smiled at me with such grief that before I could think about what I was doing, I was holding her, shushing her while she sobbed into my shoulder.

"Oh, Haymitch, I'm so sorry. It wasn't your fault, it wasn't your fault." She had repeated to me until, to my surprise, and horror, I was crying as well.

After that day, by unspoken mutual agreement, we checked up on each other, just long enough to make sure that the other was alive, though never letting more than a day go in between visits or a phone call. I don't know what Peeta said in her letter, I never asked, in fact we hardly ever spoke about Peeta, but we both knew. There was no need to bring up things that hurt. We had enough of that already. Instead we fell back into our old treatment of each other, full of disdain, disgust, and annoyance with the occasional moments of toleration.

With a groan I get up from the couch and clean up before heading over to Katniss' house to see what she wanted.

***** Quick question. Does anyone have a problem with me calling him Mitch? I've never seen him referenced as such in any other fanfic and was wondering if this was like an unspoken rule or just preference. Also, please review, review, review. Hate, love, or indifference! *****


	3. Chapter 3

**I've edited this chapter as well, though I don't think I've changed or added anything significant. Enjoy! New chapters coming up soon!**

**Do you guys like the switching views? I'm kind of tempted to just stick to Haymitch since I love him so much, but I feel like being able to understand what's going on in Katniss' head helps with understanding and following the development of the plot.**

**DISCLAIMER: ALL HUNGER GAMES RELATED CHARACTERS BELONG TO SUZANNE COLLINS**

**Katniss**

By the time I was inside my house my anger over Haymitch's arrogance had cooled. Instead, I was left feeling more alone than I had before and wondering what the flash I'd seen in his eyes meant. I had seen it before, I know I had, I just couldn't remember where. And God! That entire situation was so painfully embarrassing. I mean I was touching his- and his face was in my-. No. Christ. I couldn't think about that. Or how his stomach was surprisingly hard and chiseled under my hand, the one that wasn't touching his-. Ugh! I guess he hadn't entirely given up the workouts we began training with for the Third Quarter Quell after all. I refused to think about how underneath the smell of alcohol and sweat he smelled faintly of earth and spices, reminding me of my woods. I wonder if that's his natural smell or some kind of cologne. Whatever it was, it was comforting. No, Katniss! You are not thinking about it! Or how he was so scantly clothed! Christ. Was he always dressed that way? Or did I just realize it today? Ugh! It doesn't matter Katniss!

I'm so distracted with wrestling my thoughts that when the doorbell rings I yank open the door without wondering who could be on the other side. Haymitch. And all of a sudden I remember where I had seen that look in his eye. In the eyes of my father when he looked at my mother, and in her's when she looked back. In Finnick's when he looked at Annie. In Gale's eyes. And in Peeta's.

I was sure I had never looked at anyone that way, not Gale, not Peeta. Just as I was sure that this was the exact way I was looking at Haymitch standing on my front steps freshly cleaned and shaven, looking at the ground, shuffling his feet, and running a hand through his mess of black, curly hair, mumbling an apology about my birthday. I realize this too late, and don't have enough time to hide it before he looks up and his eyes meet mine.

**Haymitch**

I steeled myself as I got to her door, half willing myself to turn back around and dive back into my booze. Dammit. I hated apologizing! It set a bad precedent! But I guess I owed it to her a bit, forgetting her birthday and all. But I brought her a bottle of my best booze! Straight from the Capitol. That's about the only thing they got right, their liquor. "Might as well get this over with. Don't be a coward!" I ring the doorbell.

I don't look at her when I apologize, it's degrading enough already. I don't need to see the gloating, superior look in her eye while I say it. She can take it or leave it for all I care. Didn't matter to me. I look up, expecting to see her smirking, and instead find her looking at me like- No, that's not possible. But she is. Looking at me like I'm the sun, her own, personal sun. She looks so happy and beautiful, so beautiful. More so, even, then the day I saw her reading Peeta's letter. Before I can even blink she looks away, blushing, and steps aside to let me enter. I walk past her numbly, mind racing as I try to comprehend what I just saw.

"So you finally figured out how much of an ass you are, huh?" And just like that, I'm sure I imagined the look.

"Newsflash, sweetheart, you aren't exactly at the top of my priority list!" I snap back anger boiling quickly the way only Katniss can set it off. Same goes for her I think. When it comes to each other, the fuses are non-existent. More like trip-wire. One slight step too far and boom! Instantaneous. Her face flushes with instant anger now as mine cools off just as suddenly as it came on. "What did you want anyway?" I ask, not too unkindly, before she gets a chance to mouth back.

At this her face falls slightly making my heart pull a little. Ugh, pathetic, Mitch! You're heart pulling? Really? Get a grip!

"I was- well, I was sort of- I was lonely." She says, her eyes not meeting mine. Well, damn.

I reach out to her, lifting her chin and waiting until her eyes meet mine. "Katniss, sweetheart, you can come to me whenever you'd like. You know that." What? I'm not completely heartless.

She nods, her eyes never leaving mine, and then buries her face in my chest. After a second I wrap my arms around her and bury my face in her hair in return. The companionship, the break from solitude and our own, personal horrors, is a welcome relief. After a few minutes of this she pulls back a bit.

"Hey, Mitch?" She says, looking up at me with that look again, smile playing at her lips like she finds something amusing.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" I whisper, gazing right back into her beautiful, big grey eyes.

"You smell good." She states simply, and returns her face to my chest, inhaling deeply.

"Ha! Do I now? There's a first." I say planting a kiss on top of her head. "C'mon, sweetheart, let's go break open this bottle. I brought the fancy stuff, just for you." I say, leading her into the living room, grabbing two wine glasses on our way through the kitchen.

"Here's to you, sweetheart." I say pouring generous amounts of the sweet smelling, red liquor in both glasses. "Happy birthday."

"It is now." I hear her whisper under her breath, just before she takes a drink. Wonder what she means by that? That she's happy to have a drink? Company? Or is it because I'm here? Ha! There's no way it's the last one. Is there?

I turn the television on to Heavensbee's new singing show, Panem Idol, where three judges travel to all thirteen districts and the Capitol to find the best singers. Then throw them on television and have them compete against each other while the audience votes for who they thought was the best. Right now I'm cheering for this little District 7 girl who can sing like an angel.

"You should be on this show," I tell Katniss, "you'd blow them all out of the water."

She turns to me and smiles, "Heavensbee asked me to, I turned him down. I've had enough of the Capitol for one lifetime."

"I'd have to agree with you there, sweetheart. Besides, you never were good with the cameras. What did I tell you before your interview? Oh yeah, all the charm of a dead slug!" I say, dodging the fist she aims my way. She's laughing though, so I know I haven't hurt her feelings too badly.

"Oh, and what about you? All the charm of a possum and half as attractive!" She laughs back at me.

"Oh, you have no idea, sweetheart." I purr seductively. "Who do you think taught Odair everything he knew?"

At this she starts to giggle and curls into my side, sipping her wine. God, it's been so long since I've seen her let loose a little. And so long since I've had a nice time too. I can tell she's starting to feel the buzz of the alcohol a little, enough to relax. We sit there together for a while, my arm draped over the couch behind her. When she snuggles in closer to me, I drop my arm around her shoulder, tracing patterns along her arm with my thumb while she runs lines down my leg with her fingertips.

"Are you getting tired, sweetheart?" I ask, reluctant to leave. It's nice here.

"No, just more comfortable." She says.

"Oh. Okay."

We sit for a while longer, the show ends and goes to one of those infomercials talking about jewelry and what not. Katniss pops up her head and stares into my eyes with such intensity it makes me fidget a little. What's she doing?

"Katniss, what-" is all I get out before she leans forward and kisses me, once, twice, three times. I freeze unsure of what to do. She's just sitting there, examining me before she leans in and kisses me again. Jesus! What the hell?

"Katniss, the alcohol…" I sputter, but she's already shaking her head.

"It's not the alcohol. Haymitch." She whispers still staring deep into my eyes with a look of fear, hesitation, and hope in her eyes and I know it's not the drink that's bringing this on.

We sit there staring at each other for a moment longer and this time when she leans in to kiss me, I kiss her back. Hesitantly at first, and then with a passion I didn't know I had in me anymore. She gasps when I return her kiss, and I feel her moving to straddle me on the couch. Christ, what's going on here?

"K-katniss…" I stammer, pushing her away slightly. "Sweetheart, what…? I don't…" I don't really know what to say. I mean what can I say? Here I am, forty-two years old, kissing a nineteen year old! God I feel like a pervert. I am a pervert! I move her off of me, and face her. The look of pain and betrayal in her eyes drives a knife through my heart. I hate to see her in pain, but this can't be right! I mean, I'm her mentor for crying out loud!

"Katniss," I begin, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Sweetheart, this isn't right. I'm your mentor, you're just a-"

"Don't!" She says, and I can see the anger in her face, the defiant set of her shoulders. "Don't you dare say that I'm just a kid! I stopped being "just a kid" the moment Prim's name was called at the reaping. The games took that from me. They took everyone from me! But they gave me you. They gave me you and you've never left me. You never turned your back on me. You're the only one who has forgiven me time and time again. You're the only one who really cares about me." She has tears in her eyes when she's done speaking, trying so hard to hold them back. She's so strong. And she's right, she isn't a kid anymore. But I can't take advantage of her this way. It's not right. It'll be its own form of betrayal.

"Sweetheart, of course I care about you, I'll always care about you, but this isn't right!" I beg her again. "You don't really want this!"

"Don't tell me what I want!" She snaps back. "I've never been able to choose what I want! I was never given a choice, always chosen for! I was always told what to do! When is it my turn to choose?"

"Don't choose me because you feel like I'm the only option you have. There are other men out there, men your own age, men who would line up at your door to have a chance to date the Mockingjay."

"Don't you see? That's exactly it, they want the Mockingjay. They want the person the Capitol and Coin turned me into. They don't want me, the broken shell of a Mockingjay the rebellion wrung out and left behind." She whispers.

Suddenly her head snaps up, "That's it, isn't it? You don't want me either." She says, pain in her eyes. "Of course you don't, why would you? I'm a mess. I'm a crazy mess that would just bring you down. I'm so stupid. Why would you want me?" She jumps off the couch and runs to the kitchen, hiding her tears from me.

Dammit! Silly girl! Only Katniss can turn this around on herself! Always blaming herself. So goddamn selfish! I follow her to the kitchen and make her face me.

"Katniss, of course I want you, sweetheart. How could I not want you? You're an amazing, strong young woman. I mean sure, you can be a big pain in the ass sometimes," I concede with a smile, "but for the most part you're pretty okay. You're the only one I have too you know." I say drawing her into my arms.

"But how could you want me?" I say in disbelief. "I'm just an old drunk who can't tell up from down half the time. What can I give you?"

"You aren't just a drunk. And you're not old!" She says into my chest. "You're there for me, Haymitch, whenever I need you. I know you like to hide behind your sarcasm and your liquor, but you are more than that. I know you. You and me, we're alike, we understand each other. We're the only ones who do. And I… I love you."

That stops me short. I draw away from her and lift her chin up, searching her eyes, and I can see that it's not the booze that's making her say this, though it's probably given her the courage to. But she really believes that she loves me. I wasn't prepared for what I saw in her eyes. The openness of them knocked the breath out of me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay I know this is a super short chapter, but the last two were a good length!  
>Still writing so I'll be updating soon! Might even add to this one(:<br>**

**As Always, DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THG OG CHARACTERS. **

**Haymitch**

"You love me?" I breathe, unable to let myself believe it. I need her to repeat it to me.

"I love you, Haymitch Abernathy." She says, and before she can take another breath my lips are crushing hers with all the strength I can muster. I break away only when I can't hold in the laughter anymore. It's filled with relief, happiness, and wonder. Wonder over how this beautiful, amazing, totally insane creature can love a bum like me.

"Well, I love you, Katniss Everdeen." I say, kissing her again. This time slowly and sweetly, arms wrapping around her waist and pinning her between my body and the wall. She opens her mouth, deepening the kiss and intertwines her fingers with my hair. I press against her more firmly, every possible inch of our bodies pressing into each other's, and move my arms from her waist to hold her hands above her head. I run my callused hands down the inside of her smooth arms to her shoulders as she puts her hands back in my hair. Finally I pick her up, still kissing her and carry her back to the couch. We make out like two Seam kids behind the old coal factory for what seems like hours, but it's still not nearly long enough to satisfy either of us. When we finally part we're both panting for breath and trying to ease the adrenaline coursing through our veins and lay there, her on my chest, soaking in each other's happiness.

We play a game tracing words and patterns on each other with our fingertips and have the other guess what we've written. Everywhere her skin touches mine burns with such intensity I'm half afraid it will leave a mark. Her fingers begin to trace the scars on my arms and I shiver, I haven't been this close to any one in a very long time.

"Hey, Mitch, why didn't the Capitol get rid of your scars like they got rid of mine?" She asks, still running her fingers over them, light as a feather.

"They did. These are from all the years I've spent drunk out of my mind. Bar fights, clumsy falls, drunken rages, and… and other ways." I say into her hair.

"Other ways?" She says, shifting to look up at me. "What other ways?"

"Just, in the Capitol. The parties… they get a little crazy sometimes. The people there, they… they get a little crazy." I say, with a shudder, not meeting her eyes. She doesn't know what I've been through. She doesn't know that I lied to her when she asked if I had to do the same things as Odair. She doesn't know that I had been forced to do those things to keep her and Peeta alive. She doesn't know, and I don't ever want her to.


	5. Chapter 5

**I know! This one is short as well. I'm thinking about combining it with Chapter 4. What do you think?**

**Also, I realize this isn't exactly in character for Katniss. I'm trying to portray a Katniss who has matured a little. The Katniss in the books really just pissed me off. Obviously she's still going to have her flare, but I want her to mature a bit and realize her faults. Maybe I'll explain how she comes to this realization in further chapters. ;D**

**Please review! And thank you to those who are subscribing to this story, it really means a lot!**

**DISCLAIMER: ALL ORIGINAL THG CHARACTERS BELONG TO SUZANNE COLLINS!**

**Katniss**

We lie there on the couch wrapped in each other's arms. I can hardly believe this brilliant man loves me. I don't deserve his love, I know that. I've been so horrible to him these past couple of years, so selfish, but I want his love. I want his love in a way I never wanted Peeta's or Gale's. I don't want it out of obligation or selfishness or even fear. I want his love because he doesn't force it on me. I want his love because it feels safe, it feels right in a way neither Peeta's nor Gale's ever could. It surprised me when I realized I loved him, but in some small way I must have known I loved him all along. Maybe that's why I acted so hateful towards him. It wasn't because I thought he was a despicable drunk, unworthy of kindness. He had proved time and time again that he was much more than that, had risked everything for me. There was a time when I believed he had only done this to turn me into his Mockingjay, to use me for the rebellion. But now I know that wasn't the truth. He had never used me as the Mockingjay. He never forced me to become something I didn't want to. He allowed me to wallow around in my self-pity and hatred, never doing anything but watching out for me, taking care of me, trying to comfort me. How had I ever been selfish enough to think that he only cared about the Mockingjay? I was blind to everything but my own world, my own twisted version of reality. I silently vowed to make up for my selfishness over the past two years, he deserved that and more.

"Berries." I blurt out when I realize that's the word he had written on my shoulder before I became distracted with my train of thought.

"Mmm?" He murmurs and I can feel his hum resonate through his chest across my entire body.

"You wrote berries," I say, tracing the scars on his arm.

"Oh, did I? Guess I did. You smell like berries. Wild berries." He laughs taking a deep sniff of my hair. "And mint. And fire wood! I guess you'll always be the girl on fire." He says and I can feel his warm breath as he exhales into my scalp.

"You smell like wood too, but not fire wood. More like fresh cut wood. And cinnamon." I smile.

"Dirt," he says. "You wrote dirt."

"Yeah, you smell like dirt too." I chuckle into his chest. Realizing that's not exactly a nice thing to say, but it isn't a bad smell of dirt.

"Dirt?" he scoffs and I don't have to be looking at him to see the scowl on his face.

For some reason the fact that he's taken offense to this makes me laugh. "It's not a bad smell! It's more like…earthy!" I say, trying to sooth his wounded pride a bit. It strikes me as funny that he'd be offended by my comment when he usually has much more offensive odors wafting from his body. He grumbles a bit more, but quiets down when I start to trace the scars on his arm again.

"Hey, Mitch, why didn't the Capitol get rid of your scars like they got rid of mine?" I ask, still running my fingers over his abundance of scars, lingering on the ones around his wrists where it looks like he's been bound too tightly.

"They did. These are from all the years I've spent drunk out of my mind. Bar fights, clumsy falls, drunken rages, and… and other ways," he says into my hair.

"Other ways?" I ask, shifting to look up at him, narrowing my gaze, but he's refusing to look at me. "What other ways?"

"Just, in the Capitol. The parties… they got a little crazy sometimes. The people there, they got a little crazy." He mumbles staring at the ceiling, and I see a flash of pain in his eyes before he closes them and a shudder runs through him. It takes me a second, but I finally realize what he means, what he's trying not to say. The scars, the pain in his eyes, his anger on the surface of District 13 over Finnick revealing his secret all fall into place like a puzzle. Finnick had said much the same thing about the Capitol people who bought him for their pleasure while we talked one night in District 13, trying to keep each other sane. He told me all about the terrible things that were done to him and I stiffen in Haymitch's arms thinking about those Capitol people forcing him to do those things as well. Finnick had hinted at others being forced to do things far worse than he, but at the time I never dreamed it could have been Haymitch. He had lied to me on the surface of District 13 then. He didn't want me to know what he'd been through. I force myself to relax before he realizes the change in my attitude, thankfully he still has his eyes closed and I have a feeling he missed my reaction to this realization.

His eyes snap open suddenly and a sinister grin spreads across his face. "Nothing I couldn't handle though, sweetheart." He winks at me.

I force myself to laugh and hide my face in his chest. If Haymitch didn't want me to know about his life of torture in the Capitol I would let him think I didn't know. I can't imagine how painful it must be for him. I could understand if he didn't feel comfortable enough to share these things with me. I didn't have a great track record with honesty and openness myself, but I'm trying to work on them. I resign myself to wait until he is comfortable enough with me, until he trusts me enough to reveal that part of himself to me. I know that this might take a long time. Neither of us is known for our honesty and feelings. Tonight was a small miracle.


	6. Chapter 6

**I know it's been a while! I apologize. I wrote and re-wrote this chapter several times and couldn't decide on the direction I wanted this story to go. So think of this as a filler chapter. Every story needs a few. Hopefully there is enough in it to make it interesting.**

**As Always. Disclaimer! I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Haymitch**

I'm so lost in my thoughts and need for a drink that it takes me a moment to realize that Katniss has fallen asleep. When she starts to snore I figure it's a good time to take her up to her room. She doesn't wake the whole way there, just keeps snoring softly into my shoulder. She's so beautiful and warm and soft and comforting. Her presence, holding her in my arms, is a comfort. It feels like when I'm holding her I'm holding myself together. When I put her down and start to back out of the room it's almost physically painful like each step away from her is tearing into me. Staring out into the dark hallway feels like staring into the face of a hungry monster, a sadistic, evil monster bent on driving me to insanity before it finishes me off. It'd be suicide to face it alone; something I haven't done willingly in over twenty-five years. Just as I'm about to brace myself to face the horrors as silently as possible I hear Katniss shift behind me.

"Hay-mitch?" She croaks sleepily. The relief that came with the sound of her voice was instantaneous. A part of myself warned me that it was even dangerous; dangerous to rely so heavily on this fickle bird of a woman; dangerous to allow her to be my salvation from the dark; dangerous to want her to be my salvation. But I didn't pay any attention to that part of me when she called my name again.

"Haymitch?" She was struggling to sit up now, searching for me in the dim light from the moon.

"Hey there, sleepy," I said turning around and leaning on the door frame. Every cell in my body simultaneously screamed to turn around and face the danger and yet was rooted to the spot by the sight of the girl in front of me. My survival instincts were warring with each other making it almost impossible to function. I didn't know whether to smile or snarl so I settled for a half smirk.

"Where-where are you going?" She looked so confused and hurt that it almost broke me. I didn't ever want to be the reason for her pain. I wanted do everything possible to be her salvation like she was mine. But I stayed leaning against the door frame as casually as I could. I could hear the monster snarling behind me, waiting impatiently for its feast.

"It's getting late. I should head home." The words tasted like vinegar coming off my tongue. They were slimy, neither a truth nor a lie, and I didn't want to say them. What I wanted to say was that I was going nowhere, not even give her a choice in the matter. I wanted to stay and hide from the monster I could hear pacing behind me, but I couldn't do that to her. I couldn't force myself on her, couldn't force her to become my lifeline to sanity. It would be a cruel thing to do, and I could never hurt her that way.

"But-I don't-won't you stay?" She mumbled, shifting under the covers and not looking me in the eye.

"Not tonight, sweetheart," I said when she lifted her head to face me; the words burned and caught my throat on their way out. "Not tonight." I repeated, clearing my throat.

"Oh, well, okay then. Thanks for tonight, Mitch. It was fun." She said before blushing and sputtering, "I mean, not thanks for the- um-but the um company."

"I know what you meant, Katniss." I smirked. It was amusing watching her flounder for words. Watching her be embarrassed over what happened tonight was adorable and it made me want to stay there watching her all night, but I had to face the monster growing ever more impatient behind me. "I'll see you tomorrow," I said turning around, "Goodnight." And I could hear the monster give a roar of triumph that its prey was not going to escape tonight.

**Katniss**

The feeling of loneliness dragged me from my sleep in a panic. I was familiar with the feeling, but that didn't make it any less terrifying. It seemed to cut even deeper tonight after spending so much time with Haymitch. Haymitch… Where was he?

"Hay-mitch?" I croaked, throat full of sleep. "Haymitch?" I call again starting to panic a bit when I feel the weight of the blankets pressing down on me.

"Hey there, sleepy," His voice floats through the darkness to me and I see him standing in the doorway leaning against the frame and though I can tell he's trying to be casual, he can't hide the tension in his shoulders as he hunches them slightly over his neck as if to protect the back of his head.

"Where-where are you going?" I ask, confused. Why was he leaving?

"It's getting late. I should head home." Of course. Of course he was going home. Why wouldn't he be going home? But I didn't want him to go, the lonely feeling was already eating away at me.

"But-I don't-won't you stay?" I mumble, too ashamed to look him in the eye while begging for his company, any company to save me from the horrors of the night.

"Not tonight, sweetheart," He said, and the words sounded strained. "Not tonight." He didn't want to stay. That's okay, I tell myself. It's just too soon.

"Oh, well, okay then. Thanks for tonight, Mitch," I say, "It was fun." Did I really just say that? That's not what I meant! Well, it is, but it's not what I wanted to say! "I mean, not thanks for the- um-but the um company." I sputter trying to clear up my meaning and flushing with embarrassment.

"I know what you meant, Katniss." He smirked, making me flush red again. "I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight." He called over his shoulder, and then he was gone; leaving me alone to face the night on my own, unprepared.

The darkness seemed to be closing in on me, suffocating me, blinding me, cutting off all of my senses. I lost track of time and place as I was assaulted by different sounds and smells a sights that did not belong to my bedroom. Sounds and smells of the arena, of the war in the Capitol, of District 13. And suddenly I could see again, but I desperately wished that I couldn't as my vision was filled with the deaths of my loved ones and of faces I did not consciously recognize that my subconscious must have filed away saving them for a night when my resolve was weak enough to break through. They were the faces of the rebels asking why I had not saved them, asking why they had died for me, what had I done with the life they had given me?

Nothing! I wanted to scream. I haven't done anything with the life you have given me. I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't want to be the Mockingjay! I'm sorry! I didn't realize I had been screaming this aloud until I tasted blood in the back of my throat. That taste of blood brought me back to myself long enough for me to gather myself in a corner of my conscious. _My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am a victor of the 54th Hunger Games. There is no more Hunger Games. I was the Mockingjay. The rebellion is over. The Capitol has fallen. I am back in District 12. Peeta came back for me. Peeta loved me. Peeta is dead. Haymitch loves me. I love Haymitch. I love Haymitch. I love Haymitch. I love Haymitch. _I repeated the last line until exhaustion overcame me and I could escape into unconsciousness.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry for the long delay! I was moving so I haven't had time to really focus on this story. I also decided that I don't think I like the way this is developing so I'm not sure if I'm going to scrap this story or not. I may just go back and rewrite a few chaters, maybe add some more in the beginning. Anyway, hope you like this one! I know it's short, but alas I had an itch to get it out after unpacking all day!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the HUNGER GAMES or any of the recognizable characters you see in this fanfic. **

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><p><strong>Haymitch<strong>

I hold on the image of Katniss blushing and embarrassed and manage my way out her front door before the monster catches up with me and my feeling of safety is ripped away into the night. The darkness of the open night sky presses on me, forcing me down to my knees. I'm half way to my front door when I begin to crawl. The weight of the darkness makes it impossible to move, but I need to get to the only salvation I have left. I need to get my hands on a bottle. I make it up my porch and fall through the front door. It's worse in here, inside the monster's den, but I need to keep moving before it claims me completely. I need to get my hands on a goddamn bottle before it rips me open. I half stumble, half crawl my way to the kitchen, slicing my hands, knees, arms, and face on the trash and broken glass that litters the floor on my way there. My mind doesn't register the pain of these lacerations. My body is being pumped with adrenaline, my nerves are going haywire, and my breath is coming in short gasps. Things start to emerge from the darkness; shadows intent on taking me with them, intent on filling my heart and mind with hopelessness and despair. I can feel the shadows seeping into me; into my pores, my lungs dragging them in with each ragged, horrible breath.

With a panicked yell I crash into the kitchen and find my way to the half empty bottle of liquor on the table, leftover from my earlier indulgence. I grab it and shakily fumble with the screw top, panic making it hard to open. Finally, _finally_, I manage to rip the top of and I hastily guzzle down the reminder of the bottle. I can feel the pure bliss of the alcohol burning through my veins, chasing away the shadows that have tried to settle. When my hands stop trembling I search my cabinets for another bottle of liquor, preferably some of Ripper's hash to numb me before the next round of assaults occur.

The horrible feeling of raw, burning flesh was the reason I stared drinking in the first place, it was tearing me apart. Little by little, with every Games, every new death, every "appointment", I was being torn apart. The drink was the only thing I could think of to keep myself together, and the more I was torn apart, the more I drank. Now, thirty odd years later, hundreds of deaths later, dozens of "appointments" later, I'm in more pieces than I can count, and the alcohol was all that kept me from falling apart. Without it, things start to slip into the cracks; I start to feel every tear, the stitches being ripped out one by one without anything to numb the pain. The pain, the fear, is paralyzing; like a white hot rod is being shoved into your very soul.

I'm half way into my thirds bottle of Ripper's hash when the alcohol does its job and numbs me enough so that all I feel is a dull throbbing around the edges of my pieces; bearable, manageable, familiar. For the most part, my mind is still clear enough to remember, something I try my hardest not to do. Images and memories of Annabelle and Teddy begin floating behind my lids. Not my usual nightmares, actual happy memories, which are worse. I don't want to remember the feel of Annabelle's lips on mine the way her hand felt in my hair. I don't want to remember the sound of Teddy's laugh or the way he'd bounce in his seat whenever we had meat for dinner. I can't remember, but the memories come flooding through until I drown beneath alcohol like all the other nightmares before I lose consciousness in the early morning. But even in my unconscious state I can't escape the painful realization that I killed each and every one of those people I see in my living hell, and I can't escape the sickening guilt I feel for being alive when they aren't. I don't deserve to live, but I deserve the torments that haunt each and every moment of my waking life more than I deserve death, and I won't cheat the monster of its plaything.


End file.
